


A Warrior’s Purpose

by dindjarindiaries



Category: Star Wars, The Mandalorian, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Mentions of Death, mentions of illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:14:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26046361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dindjarindiaries/pseuds/dindjarindiaries
Summary: Din returns to the planet where he’d left his riduur many years ago to find her again—but instead, he finds someone else.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, The Mandalorian/Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 86





	A Warrior’s Purpose

Din’s found himself on Jallus—once again. Of course he has. There’s too many things he’s trying to find here: happiness. A future. _Her_.

Din knows he left all three of those things behind when he left her on the pastoral planet Jallus. He didn’t want to, but she’d insisted. She was holding him up, keeping him from being able to do what he needs to for his foundling. She didn’t want him to have to worry for her. He needed to focus on himself, on the child. She’d promised she’d still be here when he was ready.

He’s been ready for years, now—but Din can’t find her.

Din’s searched the planet high and low. He’s asked the villagers, but some say they don’t know. Others tell him she’s gone. He asks where, and they won’t answer. Din doesn’t understand what changed her mind, what made her decide that waiting for him wasn’t worth it, what made her flee to a planet likely far away from where he’ll ever venture in this galaxy.

Still, he comes to Jallus, clinging to the hope that he’ll find her somehow. She’ll come and collapse into his arms where he’ll be waiting to catch her, telling Din all about how she’d left because she was afraid something had happened to him, and she _had_ to know what was going on, but she couldn’t find him anywhere. Din will reassure her that it’s all right, he’s been looking for her too, and he’s ready to slip off his helmet and spend the rest of his lifetime by her side.

 _I’ve missed you,_ riduur _,_ he dreams of her voice saying to him. But it’s always a phantom sound, whistling through his ears like the wind against his helmet as he walks through the main city of Jallus yet again.

Din knows he’s nearing the marketplace now. He can hear the hustle and bustle of those who aren’t quite as haunted as him, people who can move on with their lives because they’re not clinging to something they’ve lost. Din’s felt so hollow ever since he returned the child to his people—and being unable to find her only made it worse. He’s never felt more like the shell of beskar everyone thinks he is than he has in recent years. Din’s not sure if he ever will feel something more again.

His wandering thoughts come to a halt when Din hears a noise that triggers a familiar feeling within him. There’s a soft cry that he knows no one else would hear—but after years of caring for a child, he’s learned to pick up on it right away. Din stops in his tracks, bringing a gloved hand to his helmet as he triggers his heat sensors. His breath catches in his throat when he sees a small heap curled up in a nearby alleyway, and Din can’t help himself from heading in that direction.

Slowly, Din makes his way into the alley, his once-cold heart now twisting into knots at the sight of a small girl huddled up against a few empty wooden boxes. Her face is buried in the knees she has pulled up to her chest. She wears a tunic that bears quite a few holes, her pants also ripped and dirty—signs of how worn they’ve been. There’s a mass of dark curls that are ragged atop her head, the pieces of hair waving in the drift of wind that blows through the alleyway. Din suddenly thinks of when he was in a position such as this, in that small moment before the doors of the bunker had been thrown open. His heart aches for her.

When Din reaches her, he kneels beside her, tilting his helmet as she recognizes his presence. She lifts her face and Din can see the tracks of wet tears on her small cheeks. She doesn’t look much older than seven, yet here she is, all alone in a rather large city. She wipes her cheeks with the backs of her small hands, blinking up at Din with eyes he recognizes but can’t place.

“What’s wrong, little one?” Din asks, his modulated voice soft as he attempts to make the child feel at ease.

“I’m sorry,” her small voice responds sincerely, and Din wishes he could fight the entire galaxy for the way a child so young is trying to apologize for crying while in need. “I didn’t mean to be so loud.”

“Don’t apologize.” Din’s tone is firm yet still tender, and when he tries to reach a gloved hand out to touch her shoulder, she flinches—so he keeps it on his knee. He waits for her to speak, watching as she blinks at him and swallows hard. Her dark eyes are wide and observant.

“Are you a Mandalorian?” she asks, her voice smaller than before. Din can tell his warrior-like presence is intimidating to her.

“Yes.”

The little girl smiles a bit, just enough to make Din want to smile himself. “I’ve heard stories about your people,” she tells him, her voice growing stronger now. “You keep people safe.”

Din nods his helmet at her, his chest warming up at her words. “We try our best.”

The little girl’s smile widens more, and her eyes brighten with hopefulness as she tucks a stray curl behind her ear. “Are you here to keep me safe?”

Din’s heart nearly shatters at the sound of her subtle desperation. He leans closer to her, pleased when she doesn’t cower away from him. “At the very least, I’ll bring you back to your family, _ad’ika_.”

Her gaze darkens again at his words, and she looks from his visor to her knees as she speaks again. “My family is gone.”

Din remains silent for a moment, not wanting to press the little girl too hard but also needing to know what he can do for her. “What’s happened to them?”

She takes a few seconds to collect herself and Din doesn’t rush her. He waits until she’s ready, and she offers the words with eyes that are ready to cry but refuse to. “Mama got sick, when I was five. She never got better.” The little girl pauses, stifling a cry before she continues. “She let me stay with her friend and said my _buy’ika_ would come for me very soon. But, he didn’t. And a moon ago, Mama’s friend got in trouble, and they told me to run.” She swallows back the rest of her cries and Din’s never yearned to hold a child so badly before. Yet, he remains where he is, not wanting to frighten her.

“I’m sorry you had to endure that, _verd’ika_.” The little girl’s eyes brighten a bit at his endearment, but she says nothing as he continues. “I will keep you safe.” She smiles at that, causing Din to smile himself from within the helmet as he places a gentle hand upon her shoulder. “Now, back to my first question, little one: what’s wrong? What made you cry? Was it your fear, or being alone?”

The girl shakes her head, her hands now grabbing at her stomach as she looks at Din. “I’m hungry— _really_ hungry, Mr. Mandalorian.”

Din holds back a chuckle at her name for him, the pain of her desperate hunger instead overwhelming him. “Then, we’ll get you something to eat.” Din rises from where he’s been kneeling, offering a hand to the little girl to help her up. She eagerly takes it—and even once she’s stood up, she doesn’t let go. Din allows her to keep gripping onto his gloved hand as she walks alongside him, leaving the alleyway and heading towards the marketplace. Every once in a while, Din looks over to see his little companion practically gawking at the wide array of foods at the various stalls surrounding them. “What would you like, _ad’ika?_ ”

The little girl thinks on his question for a moment, soon pointing with her free hand over to a stall that’s selling soups. Din takes her over and lets her get what she wants, paying the necessary credits and then carrying it for her until they find a spot where they can sit. He sits beside her and lets her eat—and she finishes it within minutes. There’s been peaceful silence between them, but as soon as she’s done and reenergized, she continues to walk through the marketplace with her hand in Din’s. “You know, Mama said my _buy’ika_ was a Mandalorian, too.”

Din looks down at the child in curiosity—despite the fact she can’t see his expression. “Really?”

The girl nods. “ _Mhm_. She said he was the best warrior she’s ever seen.”

“Wow.” Din gives her tiny hand a gentle squeeze. “It must run in the family, _verd’ika_.”

Her eyes light up upon hearing the endearment once again. “Mama used to call me that sometimes.”

“She did?”

She nods again. “Yup! She used to say I was a warrior just like my _buy’ika_.”

Din’s now incredibly curious as to who this Mandalorian is. He wonders if it’s someone who managed to escape the covert before the Imperials got to them. “Did she tell you what your _buy’ika_ was named?”

The little girl shakes her head. “She _did_ say I’m named after him, though.”

“And what is your name?”

The girl’s smile is practically audible as she answers. “Din’ika.”

Din stops in his tracks, unable to focus on a task as simple as putting one foot in front of the other anymore. All his mind can think about is her little voice saying the name: _Din’ika_. He remembers the late-night discussions he had with the one who had his heart, who’d insisted upon naming their firstborn after him. It all suddenly comes together for him: the amount of time it’s been since he left _her_ here versus this little girl’s age, the way he recognized so many of the girl’s features, her knowledge of Mandalorians and Mando’a. He can tell his companion’s confused by the way she turns to look at him with a little eyebrow raised. Din forces himself to take a deep breath and doesn’t let himself jump to conclusions. “What was your mother’s name?”

She’s frowning a little now due to his rash actions—but Din can’t focus on that, because he hears her say _her_ name. The one he’d left his heart to. The one he’s been looking for. The one he made his _riduur_. When he suddenly falls onto his knee, Din’ika approaches him with worry, giving his hand a tight squeeze. “Are you okay, Mr. Mandalorian?”

Din swallows hard, trying to choke back all of his sudden emotion and disbelief as he looks his daughter in the eye, silently cursing the visor that hides the full view from him. “My name is Din. Din Djarin.”

Din’ika looks confused for a moment. “But, _my_ family name is Djarin…” she trails off, as if she’s now realizing what’s happening. A wide smile spreads on her lips as she brings herself even closer to Din. “ _Buy’ika?_ ”

“ _Ner ad_.” Din’s response is breathless as he opens his arms to her. “ _Kolar_.”

Din’ika’s eyes begin to fill with tears again—but this time, tears of _joy_ —as she hurries to leap into her father’s arms for the first time. She buries her face into the clothed part of his shoulder, his helmet resting on her soft head as he holds her tight. “ _Ner buy’ika!_ _Ni vercopaani gar._ ” Din’ika weeps into his shoulder as she speaks and Din runs a gloved hand down her back repetitively. He’s trying to soak in the moment himself—and he can feel a few tears meet his own cheeks upon being in the arms of _his_ daughter.

“ _Ni ceta, ner verd’ika_ ,” Din says in an almost heartbreaking murmur. “ _Ni ceta._ ”

“No, _buy’ika_ ,” Din’ika says through a whimper, pulling away from Din’s shoulder to place her tiny hands on both his pauldrons. “Mama said you didn’t know. You don’t have to be sorry.”

Din tries his best to swallow back his emotion as he faces his daughter. “But she said I would come back for you, even if I didn’t know?”

Din’ika nods. “ _Mhm_. Mama always knew you would come back.” She brings her small hands to the sides of Din’s helmet, trying her best to reach it towards her own forehead. “And me too.”

Din smiles at his daughter, his gloved hands gently holding her small face between his gloved hands as she smiles back at him. “ _Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad, Din’ika_.”

Din’ika’s dark eyes tear up again at that—and Din guesses that his _riduur_ taught her all the Mando’a she could, especially the importance of phrases such as that. “ _Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, buy’ika_.” Her voice wobbles when she says the words, her hands tightening on his helmet as she tries her best not to cry again.

Din runs a hand over her head before he pulls her back into his arms again, closing his eyes as he mumbles the same words. “ _Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner verd’ika_. _Ni gana gar, jii_.” He keeps holding on tight as he stands and lifts her off the ground, holding her on his hip and letting her wrap her arms around his neck. She lifts her head from her shoulder to look at him again.

“Do I get to stay with you, _buy’ika_?”

Din nods at his daughter, tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “As long as I live, Din’ika.”

She instantly smiles upon hearing that, resting her weary head upon the clothed part of his shoulder as he heads to the _Razor Crest_ —already beginning to plan out his future life with his daughter.

Only a few moons later, Din’s been able to find a cottage just outside the main city of Jallus for them to live in together, where he keeps the _Crest_ parked nearby and tends to a lush garden with the help of his daughter. He’s only put his armor on to head into the city or because his daughter asked him to, curious about his warrior ways. Otherwise, he lives freely alongside Din’ika—the one who reminds him so much of the one he’s already loved for so many years.

Din’s awakened this morning with his daughter tucked in his side. Although he puts her to bed in her own room every night, he always wakes up with her beside him. Din can’t complain about it. He would never. They’ve spent too many years apart and he knows they both need every moment they can get to be near each other, even if it’s just in slumber. He smiles as he presses a gentle kiss to her forehead, causing her to stir with him.

“You’re finally awake, _buy’ika!_ ” Din’ika exclaims, pressing a kiss to his cheek before she huddles into his chest.

Din chuckles and holds her close, raising an eyebrow as he looks down at his daughter. “‘Finally?’” Din scoffs. “And where is my respect, _verd’ika?_ ”

“I’m sorry,” Din’ika apologizes sincerely. “I just… missed you.”

Din’s chest warms upon hearing her words, and he lays a kiss in her hair. “I’ve told you, _ad’ika_ , I’m not leaving you.”

“I know.” His daughter’s voice is muffled by his tunic, but he can see the innocent adoration for her father in her eyes when she lifts her head to press her forehead against his. “But I get excited for every day with you, _ner buy’ika_.”

“And I with you, Din’ika.” Din sits up and takes his daughter with him, letting her sit on his lap as she faces him. “What would you like to do today?”

Din’ika’s eyes light up as she answers, as if she’s already been planning the day even before waking up. “Can we pick some of the flowers in the field and bring them to Mama?”

Din ignores the pain in his chest upon the mentioning of his _riduur_ as he nods at her. “Sure, _verd’ika_. But first, breakfast.”

Din’ika pouts. “Do I _have_ to eat firs—?”

“ _Yes_.” Din uses his finger to poke her bottom lip back into her mouth. “We always eat first thing in the morning. Why?”

Din’ika huffs, but she can’t hide her smile. “Because we’re warriors.”

Din nods at her. “Because we’re warriors. Now, come, _ad’ika_. We’ll have some berries.”

His daughter cheers, as if she hasn’t just complained about eating breakfast at all. “Berries!”

Din laughs softly and lets her tug on his arm as they walk off to the kitchen of the cottage, where Din takes their berries from the cooler and sets them on a dish for them to pick off of. Din listens intently to his daughter going on and on about how she’s come to love berries almost like she hasn’t told him the story a million times already—though Din would never mind hearing it again. He’s realized that her little voice is his favorite sound in the entire galaxy. It sounds much like _hers_ used to, but the more time she spends with Din, the more he can hear hints of his own accent in her speech. She picks up on everything and Din knows she’s gotten her wit from her mother.

When they’ve finished with breakfast and Din’s helped his daughter to get into cleaner clothes, he leads them out to the fields surrounding their cottage. The plains roll out for miles and miles, but just a half a mile away is a field full of various flowers. Din holds a straw basket he’d bought at the marketplace to hold all the flowers his daughter picks, ready to transport them wherever she wants them to go. He can’t stop smiling as he watches Din’ika frolic and skip through the colorful and lush life, and continually he pictures the same free spirit her mother always had. She’ll never put a flower in the basket without asking Din if it’s satisfactory, and he’d never dare to say no—until she gets suspicious that he’s saying yes too much.

“ _Buy’ika?_ ” Din’ika suddenly calls for her father, and he walks to meet her with a raised brow. “Can you kneel down for a second?”

Din complies without words, watching her smile as she begins to place the few flowers left in her hand in his hair. She tucks one above each of his ears and places some smaller ones through his mass of dark waves. Once she’s finished her work, Din’ika steps away, her smile only growing as she assesses her work. “How do I look, _ner verd’ika?_ ”

Din’ika giggles as she gives him a nod. “Like a prince.”

“A prince?” When she nods again, Din stands back up, offering his free hand to her as they start to walk back towards the cottage. “And how do you know what a prince looks like, _ad’ika?_ ”

Din’ika shrugs. “I just guessed.”

Din laughs at her honest response, giving her small hand a squeeze. “No princes for you just yet, Din’ika. Not until I teach you how to fight.”

Din’ika laughs, skipping at Din’s side as they continue on. They remain in peaceful silence as they approach the place shaded by a lone tree closer to the cottage. The pile of stones comes into sight and it makes Din’s heart sink into his stomach, though he remains strong as always for his daughter. There’s a wooden carving of a heart that Din had created, embellished with the inscription of what he called her: _ner kar’ta_.

When it’s laying at their feet, Din’ika reaches into the basket hanging from Din’s arm, taking some of the flowers and placing them between the gaps of the stones. She works silently yet quickly as she decorates her mother’s grave, somehow smiling to herself the entire time as she makes it look more beautiful than Din knows he ever could. By the time she’s finished, there’s only a few flowers left in the basket, and the stones can barely be seen thanks to the plethora of colorful flowers. Din’ika looks up to her father for approval, who returns her look with nothing but sheer pride. She joins him back at his side and he picks her up, holding her on his hip as they look at their loved one’s memorial.

“Am I a warrior, _buy’ika?_ ” Din’ika asks Din softy, her voice hushed and nearly shy as Din looks over to meet her gaze. “Like Mama used to say?”

Din nods without hesitation, taking one flower from his hair to place one in hers. “You’ve always been one, _ner verd’ika_.” He leans his forehead against hers, smiling when he sees her doing the same. “And I will help you to become even more of one.”

Din’ika smiles even wider at that, her arms wrapping around his neck as she buries her face into his shoulder. Din keeps her steady and holds her as close as he can with one arm, resting his chin against her head. His heart stalls in his chest for a moment when she speaks in a small voice, muffled by his tunic. “I miss her, _buy’ika_.”

Din sighs gently, closing his eyes. “I miss her too, _ad’ika_.” He pauses to take a breath, reopening his eyes and leaning back to make her face him again. “But we will see her in another life, Din’ika—in a place where we can all be together.”

Din’ika starts to smile again upon hearing that. “ _All_ of us?” When Din nods, she smiles wider. She thinks for a moment as she rests her head gently against his shoulder. “I like being with you, _buy’ika_.”

Din’s heart softens once again as he leans his head against hers. “And I with you, _verd’ika_.”

And after years and years spent chasing his purpose in this galaxy, Din knows he’s finally found where he belongs—and he’ll never leave, as long as he lives.

**Author's Note:**

> mando’a translations:   
> riduur = wife, husband, spouse  
> ad’ika = little one, dear child  
> buy’ika = dear father (endearment of buir)  
> verd’ika = little warrior, dear warrior  
> Ner ad. Kolar. = My child. Come.  
> Ner buy’ika! Ni vercopaani gar. = My dear father! I’ve missed you. (lit.: I have wished for you)  
> Ni ceta, ner verd’ika. Ni ceta. = I’m sorry, my little warrior. I’m sorry. (lit.: I kneel, a very serious and rare apology)  
> Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad, Din’ika. = I know your name as my child, Din’ika. (adoption vow)  
> Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum = I love you (lit.: I will hold you in my heart forever)  
> Ni gana gar, jii = I’ve got you, now.  
> ner kar’ta = my heart


End file.
